Broken Fingers
by ann no aku
Summary: Hermione Granger receives a strange phone call during the summer after her 5th year. The Muggles are getting suspicous and they are myseriously dying. Who's behind these murders? Can 'Nancy Drew' solve this mystery?
1. A Call for Nancy Drew

**Broken Fingers**

By ann no aku

**Disclaimer:  **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.  The quote is from the song Skym by Underworld

**Opening Quote:**

"Mm...

Do you still feed the animal?

Animal finger

Finger on the phone

Curve around corners"

**Chapter:  **One

*****************************

Despite how much Hermione enjoyed school, she was happy when summer vacation had come.  Her parents didn't follow The Daily Prophet, and for that she was thankful.  She began to wonder if they would ever find out the truth about what has been occurring over the past few years—especially most recently with Voldemort showing his face at the Ministry of Magic.  Her thoughts flooded back to her discussion with Dumbledore the last day of school.

          "You are to go home, Ms. Granger," he had informed.  "You will be safe there."

          "I'll be safe at Grimmauld Place!"

          "I suspected you'd argue that, but the war has changed.  No matter how safe Grimmauld Place is, your home will always be the best for you," he had paused, "Until the time is right.  Also, I believe that your parents are oblivious to all of this, no?"  He had stared her down behind his half moon spectacles.

          "T-True," she had admitted.

          "Then there is no need to frighten them.  How do you think your parents would feel, Ms. Granger, if they know all that you've done these past five years?"

          Against her best wishes, her cheeks had burned in embarrassment.  She had requested to speak to the headmaster because she had been upset after discovering that she wasn't allowed to return to Grimmauld Place.  "It's not fair!" she had yelled to Ron upon receiving a letter saying she could not go prior to departure on the train home.

          Yet now, Hermione sat alone at home bored to tears.  She was tired of searching through her school books and studying.  Since both of her parents worked all summer (and told her to find a job, which was a lot easier said than done), the long days passed at an agonizingly slow pace.  Part of her didn't want a summer job, especially since the only one she could have at her age was babysitting (after already ruling out fast food jobs, of course).  Hermione just wanted to go back to school and see her friends.  _Or at least Harry, she thought.  _I wish he'd call me so I know that he is doing well._  She nearly left her bones on the couch as she leapt up when the phone rang interrupting her thoughts._

          "Hello?" she answered.

          No response.

          "Hello?"  Fear hung in her echo.  Could it be the Death Eaters?  She shook her heard as if to shake away the crazy idea.  She was being ridiculous!  Since when was Ms. Hermione Granger a coward?!

          "Is Hermione Granger there?"  A familiar voice sounded at the other end of the phone.

          "T-This is she," she answered mustering all the confidence in her voice she could.

          "Oh, thank goodness!  I wasn't sure if I even had the right number.  It's been so long since I've called that I had to keep rechecking it."  A soft laughter escaped from the stranger's mouth.  "How are you?"

          "Who is this?" she blurted, the question sounding ruder than she had intended.  Still, Hermione's heart raced.  The voice sounded familiar, could it be Beatrix Lestrange?

          _No,_ her mind argued, _the voice isn't high pitched enough.  Besides, how would she know how to use a phone anyway?_

          _Good point,_ her warped mind agreed.  Finally, she could relax.

          "You serious?" the stranger demanded.  "I _can't believe you've forgotten!"_

          Realization dawned on her like a jolt of lightening.  "Oh, it's you."

          "You almost sound disappointed," the other girl said with hurt in her voice.

          "Well, it has been a few years," Hermione began.

          "And all the more reason to be ecstatic, even if you must pretend.  Ever since you got accepted into that strange private school, no one has even heard from you much less have seen you.  Have you broken fingers from so much note taking?"

          "Not exactly."  Oh, how she hated being scrutinized!

          "Then what's your excuse, Miss Granger?  And don't say your dog ate my phone number because I know you haven't even a pet!"

          "Actually, I have a cat now.  His name is Crookshanks."  This is what she had missed—normal everyday conversation with a friend.  There were no talks of war, death, and dangerous things of the like to worry themselves with.  "I've missed you, Lane," she said not meaning emotion to stain her voice as it had.

          "Is something the matter?" she inquired.

          "No, it's just," she paused, "School's been hard lately, and that's all."

          "You've always done well in school, Hermione.  The day you don't do top-of-the-class well, the world is going to go to hell in a hand basket, as the Americans say."

          _If only you knew,_ she thought.

          "Tell me about school!  Any boys capture your fancy?"

          She instantly though of Ron, but bit her tongue on the thought.  "I met a footballer from Bulgaria.  He's really famous," she replied.

          "And?" Lane pressed.

          "He's back in Bulgaria," Hermione answered thinking back to secondary school when Lane had always chased the boys.  _Even the unattractive ones, but she's always been one for attention.  I've always been so immersed in school and books that I've hardly noticed the opposite sex.  It's amazing that Lane and I are even friends, if we still are that is._  "Why'd you decide to call me?"  The question shot from her mouth before she could stop it.

          "You still owe me 50£," Lane quipped disguising her hurt with indifference.  "Besides mum was asking about you, she forgot you attended another school.  Just thought we stopped being friends, I guess.  By the way, did you get my birthday present I had mailed you two years ago?"

          Hermione thought back to her third year.  She _had_ received a suspicious gift forwarded to her by owl, but she didn't know who had sent it.  "That was you?"

          "Who else would send you a Nancy Drew novel?" she joked referring back to when she used to call Hermione Nancy Drew.  It had all started out as an insult from one of the boys in their class.  It didn't help that Hermione had long bushy hair and buck teeth either; it had made her look even more like a geek.

          "I almost forgot!" she laughed.

          "You're getting careless!  I don't see how you are going to get accepted into Oxford."

          "Oxford?" she dumbly repeated.

          "You sure you're okay?"

          University?!  She wasn't even positive anymore if she'd survive her sixth year!  Besides, did she even want to go to Oxford anymore?  "I-I haven't really been thinking about it," Hermione admitted.

          "This private school of yours is doing absolutely nothing for your future!  Just what are you studying, anyway?"

          If the phone had a cord, she'd be twisting it between her fingers into knots.  "Um, science."

          "Science?!  Hardly your subject," Lane commented.  "Well?"

          "Well what?"

          Lane sighed exasperatedly.  "You never once asked me about myself much less if I wanted to do something with you today."

          She had been so worried about herself that she barely even thought of Lane.  But was friendship still even possible?  Their lives were so different that the idea seemed ridiculous.  Yet maybe that is what she needed—a normal friend to talk to again.  She needn't tell Lane about her life, especially not school!  "Sorry."

          "You must be stressed out.  I think you need something to drink."

          _A drink?_ Her mind echoed.  "You're joking."

          "Do I sound like I'm joking?"  Anything that has you so distracted that school seems moot must really be bloody catastrophic," she stated.

          _You have no idea,_ she thought.  "So you rang me up to get smashed?"

          "It's a bonus.  You need to let your hair down, literally.  Tell me, and be honest, Hermione, I've known you since we were six; how many times have you snuck from your dorm to meet up with boys?"

          "I don't know; too many to count."

          "Really?  That's curious," Lane commented her voice high with admiration.  "Well then, this should be nothing!  I shall be over soon with some cider.  Cheers!"

          Before Hermione was even ready to reply, the phone line went dead and the dial tone hummed noisily in her ear.  She replaced the phone back on the charger then jumped as it rang again.  "What is it now, Lane?  You forgot my address?" she said as soon as she picked up the receiver.

          "I'd say indoors at night if I were you."

          "What?  Who is this?  Hello?"

          The line fell silent once more.  Her hand shook as she once again set the phone down.  Who had just called?  The voice sounded familiar, but as though he was disguising it.  The call had obviously made reference to the recent events revolving around Harry Potter.  Her stomach did crazy flip sending waves of nausea up her tight throat.  It took her five minutes just to unglue her feet from their spot.  The sound of water dripping in the sink made her aware of the sweat soaking her hands.  Never before had a phone call frightened her so!

          She moved over to the love seat in the den to steady her quivering knees.  Maybe she _did_ need a drink.  She had been awfully uptight as of late due to all the stress of the unknown war.  How would the normal people feel if they know all that was going on beneath the surface of their 'mundane' country?  Would the Muggles get involved?

          Lord how she prayed not!  It was disturbing enough to think of her parents finding out about her resistance!  She could picture it clear as the Dark Mark in the sky two years ago:

          "Hermione Granger is this true?" mother would ask.  But what could she say?  "This school, I-I don't have a problem with it, but you are _not_ going to be a soldier in some army!"

          "You've always taught me to stand up for what I believe in!" she'd reply.

          "While that may be true, Love," father would begin, "But you are not old enough to understand the responsibility of war."

          _I've seen it,_ Hermione would think.  "Ron-"

          "Ronald Weasley?" Mother would exclaim exasperatedly.  "His family is involved!  You are not a part of his family no matter how much you may choose to be just to wage a war."

          "'Wage a war'?  I just want to help my friends!"

          "Then maybe you needn't attend that _school anymore."_

         Would her parents be as unreasonable as she thought?  _Only one way to find out, and it won't be by me.  She suddenly felt as though she was playing the field.  What was more important to her?  Friends or family?_

          _Friends, _came the instant reply, _because if you win you'll save your family!  There's no way to save mum and dad if you're dead._

          Dead.

          Dead.  Dead.

          Dead dead dead deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead.

          The word hammered in her mind like her echoing heartbeat pounding itself to be released from its mortal cage.

          She could die.

          She had almost died!

          The thought of getting plastered kept looking like a better idea.  Hermione had to blink away her tears as the doorbell rang.  There stood her old friend Lane with two large bottles of cider.  "You do realize that my parents get home soon, don't you?"

          "Who said we're drinking here?  Besides you look like you could use some fresh air."  The girl hadn't changed at all.  She was still exotically beautiful with her dark hair and eyes, olive skin, and large smile that could even make the Dark Lord himself melt.  _Yet she uses that charm of hers to get her way, Hermione reminded herself._

          "You look depressed," Lane announced stepping inside the house.

          "It's been a long school year, and almost longer summer."  _Especially since no one has written, she thought bitterly._

          "It has only just begun!"

          "Has it really?"

          "It's not even July!  C'mon, hurry up and get ready.  The night is only so young."  Lane paused to study her friend.  "You've had braces!"

          "Sort of," she lied.

          "You look absolutely fabulous, dah-ling!  Not as good as I do, of course," she said flipping her long straight hair over her shoulder.  "You know what you need?"

          "What?" Hermione inquired as she tugged her jacket sleeve over her arm.

          "A hair cut," Lane smiled.

          "I don't know," she replied absently running her fingers through her infinite knots and tangles.

          "Oh well," the other girl said and dragged Hermione outside.  "Let's go."

          "Wait, I've forgotten my key."  _And wand,_ she thought, _just in case._

          "Well, we haven't got all day!"

          She stared at her friend with a look that could scare even Malfoy Sr. himself.

          "There are boys to meet!"

          "Of course," she sighed and tore inside her house to find her key and wand.  Hermione also penned a quick note to her parents:

Out for a bit

Be back later

 Hermione

But once she had found her exquisitely crafted piece of wood, fear flooded her veins as she picked it up.  Would she have to use it?  And, if so, she was still under age!  Would she have a trial as Harry had?  _Either way,_ she contemplated; _I don not want to think of the consequences._

          "You sure did take long enough."

          "Sorry, had to leave a note for mum and dad," she informed shoving her hidden tool in her inner coat pocket.

          "What's that you've got?" Lane inquired trying to peer inside her friend's jacket.

          "My Nancy Drew book in case we come across some trouble," Hermione quipped.

          "Really?  And how would Nancy Drew help us?  Besides, what sort of trouble could two teenage girls create?"

          "Oh, it's not us I am worried about, Lane.  What if we come across a crime?"

          "A crime?"

          "You never know," she smiled absently thinking back to the second phone call she had received.

          "I know better than you think."


	2. Immortal Children

**Broken Fingers**

By ann no aku

**Disclaimer:  **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.  The quote is from the song Skym by Underworld

**Opening Quote:**

"Do you still feed the animal?

Your muffled voice

Is air up the side of your head

And the wires come in

Open eyes close us"

**Chapter:  **Two

*****************************

          "I know better than you think," Lane informed twisting off the cap to her bottle.

          "What?  What do you mean?" Hermione demanded watching as her friend took a large gulp of the cider.

          "My brother was killed a couple of weeks ago.  He's a reporter—_was an investigating reporter for the London Times.  To make a long story short, Josef felt he was on to something—refused to say what (just like him, the bloody fool), then he was found dead in an alleyway between the bookshop and the record store in London—you know the one.  Anyway, the autopsy reported that he had died of a heart attack.  Honestly, at his age?!"_

          "I am so sorry!" she gasped knowing all to well what had killed Josef.  It was the very thing, the very _spell_ that could have claimed her life only just a few weeks ago as well.

          "It's a mystery, Hermione.  I am worried that they'll come after me."  Lane faked a laugh, but the look in her eyes said she was still frightened.  "But I don't even know who _they_ are."

          "I don't know what to say."

          "Unless your Nancy Drew book can help solve this mystery, there's nothing really to be said.  This is why we drink."  Lane softly clanged her bottle against Hermione's unopened one.  "Could she solve this?"

          If Lane's voice hadn't been so full of desperation, she would have laughed from the ridiculousness of the question.  Hermione couldn't tell if Lane was serious at first, but the look of the girl's face said all she needed to know.  "Where are we headed?" she asked in hope to deter the conversation.

          "I don't know.  The park is close by."

          "You know, a friend of mine had his godfather die just recently."  Even saying it sounded unreal.

          "What does that have to do with anything?" Lane snapped.

          "Don't take your anger out on me!" she cried.  "I've had to put up with _his self pity all year; I am not going to take yours, too!  I am sorry Josef had died, Lane, I really am, but there is nothing you can do but hope that he's someplace better."_

          "I wasn't aware you were quite so religious, but then how'd I know, haven't seen you in years.  Either way, you have no right to be so cold."

          "And you have no right to be so selfish!"  She regretted the words as soon as they flew from her mouth.  Was this the madness she had been harvesting since the beginning of her fifth year?  "I am sorry, Lane."

          "No, you are right.  I am being selfish.  Let's finish our drinks."

          _But I haven't even touched mine,_ she thought before rushing to remove the jagged lid.  The cider was bitter to taste.  _Much like my mood, she mused._

          The silence between them grew almost as thick as the years of no correspondence they've shared.  They just walked with no real destination in mind, only drinking to drown the sorrows of past weeks.  After learning the death of Josef, Hermione was not at all surprised that Lane had decided to call her earlier, although she as shocked to hear the 'how' of his death.  Not a single doubt about whodunit floated about her busy mind.

          _Josef was probably trailing Death Eaters.  Ever since the Muggle population had been aware of the escape of 'Black' and the vagueness of the report, suspicion has infected everyone like a plague.  Now with the Dementors gone from Azkaban and all the prisoners free, no one is safe anymore.  Once again the old sport of Muggle torturing has been revived.  And I thought Voldemort didn't care about them enough to permit the cruel games!  _Hermione's ideas of the 'why' Josef was murdered kept hitting her tidal wave after tidal wave.  _It's really not a wonder why she still calls me Nancy Drew, she thought smiling inwardly as to how well the description fit her._

          Before long, the two reached the park they had used to play when they were much younger.  Never before had it looked so desolate.  It could have been the dark clouds betraying the summer's air, or jus their pathetic moods.  The once multi-colored merry-go-round had turned red with rust, and the old blue seats of the swings had grown moldy with age and rain.  They dumped their new empty bottles in a trash bin and sat tiredly at the wooden picnic table.

          "I can't believe he's dead.  He's never coming back."

          "I understand," Hermione comforted feeling the drink go straight to her head.  How quickly had she drunk the one liter bottle?

          "How could you?" Lane rounded also affected by the drink.

          "Well, I almo' died, y'know.  Oops . ." she covered her mouth in embarrassment.

          "What?"

          "Um, I almos' died.  I can't re-ember much, just bein' knocked unconscious.  But there was this guy standing over me shouting curses."

          "Like hexes?"

          "N-No," she lied feeling the boiling blood rush to her cheeks.  "Well, I forgot _exactly_ what happened, but I survived."

          Lane laughed covering her mouth as if to stop the mirth of giggles from escaping.  "Obviously."

          "Obviously what?"

          "Two things, Miss Drew: one, you are obviously alive; two, you are obviously tipsy."

          "Tip-sy?"

          "Yeah."

          "Have I said too much?"

          "About what?"

          "N-Nothing," she whispered.

          "I'd like to know what Josef was investigating.  Would you like to help me?" Lane offered sounding the most sober she had all evening.

          "We're just children."

          "I know.  They wouldn't kill us, would they?  Could they kill us?"

          "We're not immortal," Hermione retorted.

          "You may not be, but I plan on living forever."

          Hermione was instantly reminded of the Dark Lord.  She could have eve sworn that Lane's voice had changed to His.  Was it just her, or was Voldemort haunting her even when she wasn't sleeping?  Suddenly Harry's nonsensical paranoia made sense, and that was the last thing she could remember thinking before awaking on an oddly familiar floor just mere hours later it had seemed.


End file.
